


Rejuvenation Period (Or What Keith Calls Cuddling)

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), But just a little, First Time, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Klance Fluff Week 2017, Klance Week 2017: Free Day, M/M, Oops, Smut, Virgin Keith, aren't all keith's gay??, listen idk if this is on the right day or not im SORRY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Lance and Keith are dating secretly, and after a hard day of training, Keith works up the courage to enter Lance’s bedroom. [wink wonk]





	Rejuvenation Period (Or What Keith Calls Cuddling)

The thing about dating Keith was that it was practically the same as not dating Keith, except sometimes their fights ended in kisses. This was only reinforced by the fact that the rest of the team didn’t know they were in a relationship either, for many different reasons that they’d collectively come up with.

First and foremost, they were almost entirely sure that it would be looked upon with disapproval. Lance could practically hear Shiro’s voice, warning them that this would inevitably end up drawing their attention away from what really mattered: Voltron. And if not Shiro’s voice then it was Allura’s, questioning them about what would happen if they were to break up—would they still be able to work together after that? To form Voltron?

Neither he nor Keith felt quite ready to put up with that, and so they were content with keeping it from everyone else’s eyes. There was also the fact that, though Keith wouldn’t admit it, he was ashamed of his sexuality. Lance could tell. From their very first kiss—full of hesitation, and followed up with Keith running away—it was obvious. Of course, that might’ve just been hindsight bias. Lance _had_ witnessed the later blow up, had seen the tears and listened to Keith’s shouts about how it was wrong and how he couldn’t do this. That was before he’d ended up kissing Lance again, however. It was definitely before he asked Lance if they could do it more often.

Finally, and most insignificantly, they were keeping it a secret because it was _fun_. It was fun, kissing behind doors and around corners, before timing their departure so that they’d show up in the control room at different times. It was fun, sneaking into Keith’s room in the middle of the night to kiss him, and consequently being slammed into the wall with a knife at his throat when he surprised Keith while he was sleeping. It was especially fun flirting with Allura and watching as Keith’s eyebrows drew lower and lower and lower, until Lance could barely even see his eyes peeking out from under them.

And still, they fought constantly. They bickered and teased and insulted each other, and the rest of the team wasted time begging them to just get along already. Little did they know that they could get along, as long as there was less talking and more kissing. Lance couldn’t deny that Keith still annoyed the shit out of him a lot of the time—he just looked hot when he was doing it, and Lance would just resolve to shoving him against a wall the next time they were alone, even amidst insulting his piloting skills or hair or whatever seemed particularly vulnerable at any given moment.

Still, there was something incredible about the moments they weren’t arguing. Like now.

It was after dinner, and everyone had already bid each other goodnight after a long and tiring day of training. Keith and Lance had split off from the rest of the team a couple of hallways back, their rooms the only ones on this wing of the castle. They were approaching Lance’s already.

“Night,” Keith said. He slowed, barely, and Lance smirked. Keith didn’t like to initiate their kisses—something about his internalized homophobia, which Lance was still working on getting rid of—but he wanted everything Lance did with the same intensity. He just wasn’t as good at going about getting it.

“Goodnight,” Lance answered, and he stopped, reaching for the door handle. Keith titled his head, peeking towards him imperceptibly, and Lance was lounging against his door, a grin spread across his face. “Something you needed?”

“Huh?” Keith said quickly, turning to face Lance. “I mean, no—no not really. Was there something _you_ —?”

“Nope,” Lance said with an easy shrug, and he swung his door open, stepping inside his room. He began to ease it shut…

“Wait.” Keith’s hand appeared around the edge of the door.

“Yeah?”

“It’s just—well, it’s not that late. We could still do something, if you wanted? Train maybe. Or just… just read. Or something. We don’t have to, actually. I might just go to b—”

“Oh shut up,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. He swung his door wide open and tugged Keith inside after him, leading them both to the bed.

“Um. What’re you—”

“Shut up,” Lance said again, and he shoved Keith onto the mattress, who sprawled onto it inelegantly before turning to look up at Lance, his eyes looking somewhat fearful. Lance ignored him, climbing onto the bed himself and draping himself over Keith—his head on his chest, his hand on his stomach, his leg thrown over his boyfriend’s. “You can stop looking so scared of me, you know,” he said firmly. “It’s not like I’m going to try to force you into sleeping with me or anything.”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not,” Lance scoffed. “Plus I know you’ve never done it before.” To be fair, neither had Lance, really. Well, he’d gotten a bit farther than making out, a few times, but those times had been with girls, and they hadn’t really gone any farther than playing around with their hands.

“I had sleepovers as a kid!” Keith said indignantly. His hand was resting on Lance’s back, his fingers warm even through his shirt.

“I’m not talking about sleepovers, Keith,” Lance said quietly.

“Then what are you—” he broke off with a short intake of breath. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Lance answered. “But you don’t need to be worried; you know I won’t try to do anything with you.”

“You won’t?”

“I _just_ said—”

“ _Ever_?” Keith interrupted.

Lance paused. “Well, not unless you wanted to,” he responded. He looked up at Keith then, who noticed him looking and looked away, blushing.

“I mean, I might one day,” Keith answered. “It’s not like you can rule it out _forever_.”

“Okay,” Lance said easily. “Well, when that day comes, let me know.”

His hand had slipped under Keith’s t-shirt sometime during this ordeal. It wasn’t anything inherently sexual, just his fingers pressed against the shorter boy’s bare skin, but he liked it. It was barely anything, but he liked it. He suspected that Keith liked it too, if his slight, sudden shiver and raised goosebumps were anything to go by.

“Lance,” Keith whispered, some minutes later. Lance hummed in return, but Keith said nothing. Lance settled for peeking up at him, only to see that his face was tinged pink and he was staring intently at the ceiling. The cause for his embarrassment was soon apparent, when Lance noticed Keith’s emerging hard-on mere inches from his hand. Lance tilted his head down and pressed a kiss against Keith’s chest.

“Stop babying me,” Keith muttered.

“What?” Lance scoffed, glaring up at him. Keith was glaring right back.

“I”m not some fragile little school girl,” he insisted.

“I never said you were.”

“Well, good,” Keith bit out. “It’s not like I’m scared.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

“But I’m _not_.”

“But it’s okay if you _are_.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Keith said deliberately.

“But—”

“I’m saying that you could touch me!” Keith hissed, before his face flared red. “If you wanted to. It’s not like I’m—it’s not like…”

Lance squinted at his emotionally turbulent boyfriend, but he appeared more flustered at the thought of Lance touching him than actually dissenting to the idea. And so Lance slid his hand a few inches to the left, settling it over the bulge in Keith’s pants. Immediately, he went silent, the only sound his small intake of breath between his teeth.

Lance squeezed, and Keith hissed, barely jerking into his hand.

“This okay?” Lance asked.

“Yes, God, shut up,” Keith muttered, and Lance flicked his pants open and slid his hand inside in response. Keith gasped and arched up, up, up into his hand, but Lance sat up and rolled on top of Keith, so that he was sitting on his thighs and holding him down firmly.

“You shouldn’t sit there,” Keith whispered, his voice wobbly and warbled as he struggled to talk through Lance pleasuring him. His cock was already slick with precome, and his face and neck were flushed.

“How come?” Lance said innocently. With his other hand, he pushed Keith’s shirt up his chest, wanting to see more of him. Keith—if possible—blushed through his already flushed cheeks as more of his body was exposed.

“You just—you shouldn’t… _look_ at me so much,” Keith breathed. His eyes fluttered shut, unable to help it, as the smallest groan slipped from his lips. He bit on them immediately after, trying to halt any more sounds forthcoming.

“But I like looking at you,” Lance said lowly. “I _love_ looking at you. The best part of arguing with you is looking at you, watching you get more flustered and angry. God you’re hot when you’re mad, you know that?”

“Shut up,” Keith whined, and Lance slid his thumb over the sensitive slit of Keith’s head as punishment—it wasn’t really much of a punishment, if Keith’s low moan was anything to go by.

“You can’t possibly be saying you don’t like looking at me,” Lance continued. “Because I notice. I can’t _not_ notice, really. When we go to the weird pool together, or shower after training. I notice you looking, Keith.”

“I don’t,” Keith panted.

“Liar.”

Keith moaned, one of his hands flying up to grip onto Lance’s shirt. He was twisting and thrusting in Lance’s grasp, open-mouth panting with his eyes clenched shut.

“Fuck, Lance,” he breathed.

“Now?” Lance joked. Keith pinched him, and Lance knocked his hand away, pinning it to the bed. He leaned down over the other boy, letting his breath spill across his lips, his ear, his neck.

“Please,” Keith whispered, barely audible.

“Please what?”

“Kiss me,” Keith commanded, and his eyes finally opened once more.

“Where?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Lance could tell that a _‘my mouth, obviously’_ was mere seconds away, and so he pressed his lips against Keith’s jaw, before parting them and sucking lightly, his tongue darting out to tease him. Keith’s breath left him in once giant rush, and he bit his lip once more.

“Lance,” he whispered urgently. “I’m—I think I’m almost—I think—”

“Good,” Lance answered, and he pressed his lips against Keith’s, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, nibbling and licking, and his hand sped up over the other boy. Keith’s hand had broken free of Lance’s restraint at some point and it was gripping tightly at the back of Lance’s neck, as he bucked desperately into his closed fist.

With a whine, he was coming, his fingers digging into Lance as he panted and gasped wildly. His hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead, and his eyes were glazed over with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“I think you mean quiznak,” Lance whispered back, which earned him a jab in the side. Lance hissed and rolled aside.

“You’d hurt your boyfriend? Your boyfriend who just offered you your first sexual experience?” Lance demanded with an exaggerated frown. He’d barely managed to get the words out before Keith was curling against his side, reengaging the contact all along their bodies. He’d managed to pull his boxers back up, but his shirt was still askew over his chest.

“Shut up,” he instructed. “Just let me catch my breath and then we’ll… you know. We’ll do…” he gestured around Lance. “You.”

Lance laughed, and he hugged Keith closer into his side. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “Not until you want to. Not until you’re comfortable.”

“ _I’m not_ —” Keith began hotly, but Lance interrupted.

“A baby? I know that,” Lance said. “If you were, what we just did would be extremely disturbing.”

“Ew, Lance.”

“I know right? But seriously. I don’t want you to do anything before you’re ready. I’m perfectly happy just cuddling here with you.”

“We’re not _cuddling_ ,” Keith insisted, and Lance rolled his eyes, though it went unseen.

“And then what would you call this?” Lance questioned.

There was a long pause. “Perfectly reasonable, post-sex, rejuvenation period,” Keith answered. “It’s only natural to recharge.”

Lance laughed, loud and long, though he tried to stifle it in Keith’s hair, who was pushing him away and insisting that it wasn’t funny and that he was being _serious, Lance._

Lance didn’t care. He didn’t care what Keith called cuddling, as long as he allowed it to happen. He could already see the cracks forming along his harsh guidelines for himself. Soon those cracks would be greater than the what they covered, until it all came crumbling down, letting him be free.


End file.
